


To free a future jedi

by Pielotdameron



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Gen, Listen there’s a lot of original Character aliens in here but I love them okay?, Qui-Gon Jinn accidentally adopting a bunch of kids, Slave Obi-Wan Kenobi, Slavery, Violence, Young Obi-Wan Kenobi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27905515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pielotdameron/pseuds/Pielotdameron
Summary: Whilst on a strictly neutral visit to a planet far in the outer rim, Qui-Gon Jinn finds himself in a slave house.Here he meets Obi-Wan Kenobi, a little boy with the personality of a tooka and the fierceness to match.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Original Characters, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Qui-Gon Jinn & Orginal Characters
Comments: 2
Kudos: 67





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning for general violence and suggestions of rape against children in this fic. Nothing is explicit at all, but it’s there
> 
> Also, all of my translations are rough from Mando’a, so I apologise for inaccuracies 
> 
> See end notes for translations

It was never to be said that Qui-Gon wasn’t an affectionate person, rather the opposite. He grew far too attached, far too quickly.

And the sweet little slave boy that met his eyes across the dingy diner was no exception.

He had been sent to the rather desolate planet for observation, that was all. But the moment those bright blue eyes locked onto his, a childish hope still alight in his eyes despite his bloodied wrists and mangled feet, Qui-Gon knew he had to do something. He had never understood people who felt the need to keep slaves, and he had no empathy for ones who decided children were the best victims. He had studied the boy closely, watched as the slave master drove a whip down hard across his frail little shoulders, searched the boy’s face. But the little one didn’t even flinch away from the contact, despite how much Qui-Gon knew it must have hurt him. In fact, the only sign of any weakness at all was each time his hands shook violently when he served Qui-Gon’s simple tea. He had tried to keep the order light, not wanting the poor slaves to have too much work, but the master had insisted, and so Qui-Gon watched, guiltily, as the little hands fumbled over a tray of strange grey biscuits. The force cried out a warning, and at the last second he steadied the trembling right hand holding the teapot, preventing what he knew would be the boys last accident. Large eyes that reminded him of a tooka with their softness gazed on him so deeply, calculating quickly. Not one word crossed his chapped lips, and yet Qui-Gon knew he had made his decision.

“ _Gar cuyir a jetiise, cuyir gar olar at tegaanalir mhi?”_ It took Qui-Gon’s distracted mind an embarrassing amount of time to notice the boy had not spoken aloud, that this young slave had somehow survived until now whilst also being force sensitive.

Apparently, it took him a moment too long, because the slave master walked over, roughly tugging the little boy away by his soft ginger hair. Tooka eyes fixed on him once more, the boy still waited, the picture of patience.

Only once they were gone did Qui-Gon realise the boy had been speaking Mando’a, asking for his help but never once showing any care for his own rough state.

Observations would take longer than anticipated.  
  


The next morning, after a rough night of dreams filled with terrified blue eyes and sickly pale skin, Qui-Gon set back out towards the diner. He was clad once more in the planetary custom clothing, feeling strangely exposed without the ridiculous layers of robes he normally had to wear, and distinctly uncomfortable with how low the shirt hung. Today, he had no more of a plan than he had the day before, except for the knowledge that he had a way of conversing with the boy. He had poured over his Mando’a texts, long abandoned, for many hours after returning to his temporary residence at a strange hotel, once again held up by slaves, as everything on the cursed planet seemed to be. As far as he had been aware, the ancient language had long since fallen out of use, and he couldn’t help but wonder who the boy had learned from. The skinny child had clearly been away from any parental figures for a long time, so it couldn’t have been them. He wondered if one of the other slaves had taught it to him.

It finally clicked, as he walked through the fingerprint-smudged doors, and he had to physically tamp down a badly timed smile.

Sitting in the same seat as before gave Qui-Gon the perfect vantage point of the room. He distractedly gave his order to a young togruta, eyes scanning the room carefully. Now that he knew what he was looking and listening for, it was everywhere, and he was shocked at himself for hearing nothing before. Maybe he had simply not been meant to hear before now.

Each time the slaves would pass one another, they would lean over, a casual motion easily overlooked, and mutter something into whoever they passed ear. The little slave who had received the message would smile, and pass it on carefully to the next boy or girl they came into contact with. All this happened literally breathing distance under the slavers noses.

His tea was deposited on his table by familiar trembling hands, and this time he didn’t have to think twice about cupping his wrist gently to steady his hand. The boy looked surprised, but that shifted into full blown shock when Qui-Gon patted the seat beside him. Frantic blue eyes scanned the room, and sensing no danger, inched a little closer to the Jedi. He hoped the smile on his face was a comforting one, because his thoughts were burning. On the backs of the boys thighs, there were thousands of old scars, and alarmingly fresh fingerprints inching up under the tatty old shirt the little one was wearing. He took a steadying breath. If his suddenly made, absolute shambles of a plan was to work, he needed to keep a cool head, appear a neutral third party.

“ _Do you speak my tongue young one? My Mando’a is a little rusty.”_ He watched as the boy tensed in surprise at hearing his voice through the force as he scrubbed the already spotless table. The slave master, noticing nothing awry, turned to some other little child who was far too young for this life, a malicious smile on his face.

“ _Ni suvarir gar, a don’t guuror at jorhaa'ir bic.”_ His translation was rough at best, and he frowned in contemplation, accidentally alerting the master to the fact more was going on. He knew he had only moments before the master arrived at the table, and carefully sipped his tea.

“ _Alright little one. I’m going to get you and your friends out of here, okay? Can you tell them?”_ He looked up and greeted the slave master as any mildly interested client would, noting with satisfaction that the little mop of ginger locks was already gone, flitted around a corner quicker than Qui-Gon could even register his movements.

“Was ‘e bovering you kind sir? Damn kids a devil.” Qui-Gon met the mans beady eyes, feeling distinctly uncomfortable with the man being so close.

“Not at all sir. In fact, I’ve been rather impressed with his behaviour when serving me. He has the manners of a true slave.” The words tasted like ash in his mouth, and he slowly took another sip of the tea to clear it. A little familiar face poked around the corner, and then the little boy carefully rejoined the crowd, entirely unnoticed by the slave master, who’s face was full of delight, clearly sensing the buyer opportunity Qui-Gon was setting down one sentence at a time.

“Oh ye ‘ave, ‘ave ye?” Those bug eyes seemed to search through him, and he fixed a smile on his face. He had survived far worse scrutiny while under Dooku, but that didn’t make it any more pleasant.

“Oh yes. In fact, you are clearly a very strong master, for I have been impressed with many of the slaves.” He hoped the crocodile grin on his face was convincing, because his jaw was jumping with the urge to grit his teeth, and he just barely hid his clenched fist under the table.

“Yep, one of the best ‘round these parts in fact!” He sounded so pleased with himself, and Qui-Gon’s stomach flipped.

“Oh? Meaning there are other slaves I should be looking at?” That wasn’t good news. He hoped the little boy didn’t know about the other masters, because he seemed the type to try and save everyone.

“No no, of course not. Best a the lot over ‘ere.” Behind them, a very small twi’lek girl dropped a plate on the ground, a loud shattering sound following, and her eyes immediately widened in horror as the slave master clattered to his feet, drawing silence over the entire room. There were two other patrons in the diner, both of which looked delighted that the youngling had made a mistake. One huge hand flew down, catching her across her pale green cheek, leaving a bright print almost instantly. But before the master could land another hit, a ginger blur launched itself in front of her, taking the second slap across his face. Stubborn blue eyes glared up at the master, but the boy made no moves to retaliate, and Qui-Gon was hit suddenly by how strong as a Jedi this boy could be. Behind him, the twi’lek girl was struggling to hold back tears, her chains clattering with each of her shaky attempts to wipe her face fresh of tears. Qui-Gon’s heart broke.

“YOU YOUSLESS BRATS.” Qui-Gon had to look away this time, but he still heard the crack of skin on skin as the master landed a heavy hit on the boys shoulders, right where he had seen the whip land. When Qui-Gon had forced himself to look back over, the boy was pulling himself to his feet. There weren’t even tears in his eyes, but the force trembled around the boy with the weight of the pain he was pushing away into it. The boy showed a unique control of the force for one so very young, and he watched as he used it to hold himself upright, using his battered little body as a physical shield for the weeping little twi’lek. Qui-Gon got an idea, and stood slowly, noting when around ten pairs of little eyes fixed on him.

“Master, do not let me tell you how to run your slaves, you are a master of talents, however, the girl interrupted my tea, I would like to take her-“ he paused to take a deep breath, trying to prepare himself for the words “-to a private room, and teach her a lesson on respect.” There. He’d done the hard part. The master paused, hand raised, and the little boy fixed him with a glare that spoke volumes more than the Mando’a that echoed in his mind.

“ _Meh gar hurt kaysh, i’ll poison gar tea.”_ Although the boy seemed calm, it was blatant in the fire in his eyes that he wouldn’t hesitate to follow through with his threat. And Qui-Gon was glad of it, seeing such a spark in one so young.

“Aye! A great plan in deed. Ye are a man of taste I see.” His grin was all sharp teeth, and as the room seemed to unfreeze, his clawed hands wrapped around the little boys neck. He had to physically hold his hand back to stop himself interfering, knowing the rest of his plan wouldn’t work if he caved and tried to save the boy too soon. Although one hand instinctively wrapped around the slave masters wrist in an attempt to relieve the pressure, the boy didn’t look away, levelled the man with a defiant glare. All this boy had needed was the suggestion of his friends being free, and he was willing to lose everything. The twi’lek girl was shoved unceremoniously into his arms, and he caught her as gently as he could without giving them away. The poor little thing went near limp in his arms from terror, and he lifted her carefully.

“Can’t have her getting away.” He offered, as an explanation, and saw the boys eyes glint dangerously at the mere suggestion. He sent an apology through the force, and saw his shoulders relax just slightly. How the boy trusted him at all, he had no idea, but he really hoped nothing would risk the fragile bond between them. He headed down the hall, to where he knew the private rooms would be, feeling a little sick when he walked past another locked door. The girl in his arms didn’t kick, didn’t scream, hardly even breathed. The click of the lock seemed to wake her up somewhat, and she scrambled out of his arms, tumbling without grace towards the dingy bed in the room and settling into it immediately, her eyes shut. Qui-Gon took a deep breath.

“There’s no need, little dear, sit up.” He sent calm waves through the force, and saw the moment they worked, her body slumping against the wall and confusion practically palpable in the air around them. He held out the strange grey biscuits he’d stored yesterday and she eyed him like he was insane.

“I’m Qui-Gon, and you are?” She genuinely seemed to consider for a few moments, before shaking her head hard, pressing herself away from Qui-Gon.

“Alright dear, I’ll just stay here, feel free to help yourself.” He knew the girls hunger would win out eventually, and settled himself on the ground in a basic meditation pose. This wasn’t exactly the best environment for meditation, but he worked with it, shifting his weight in the force. He couldn’t hold back a smile when he heard shuffling, and then quiet chewing sounds as the girl ate slowly, knowing that was possibly her first meal in a while.

“Kotir.” He almost didn’t catch her whisper, it was so soft in the uneasy silence, but when he did, he sent her a warm smile.

“Alright, Kotir, thank you for telling me. I’m here to help you and your friends, I have no desire to hurt any of you.” The plan was falling easily into place, one piece at a time.

“Help? Why?” Her first tongue was rough at best, but he was grateful to hear her voice, no matter how quiet. It was so close to being silent forever.

“What’s happening to you isn’t right. You’re only children, you belong to nobody.” He said it with such conviction he even surprised himself, let alone the girl, who was watching him with eyes wide as dinner plates.

“He trust you.” She nodded, seeming to come to some sort of conclusion that Qui-Gon wasn’t privy to, and shifted her weight, climbing down from the bed and settling in front of him on the ground, mimicking his half lotus position.

“Who trusts me Kotir?” Qui-Gon watched her thought process as it flitted across her face, and once more came to a solid conclusion.

“The boy, hair.” She looked very frustrated with herself, but Qui-Gon got the gist.

“Ah, the little ginger boy who rescued you? Yes, he does seem to trust me.” He smiled, noticing her shoulders relax at the statement.

“Then we do. He is best of us.” She nodded, looking very serious for one of maybe two or three years.

“He’s going to help me free all of you, do you think you can help me too?” He felt guilty for basically recruiting injured children, but she made that guilt vanish by grinning widely like he had offered her the force itself on a platter.

“Yes! My sister, older, can help you.” She looked so genuinely delighted to be helping him, and he sent her a warm smile in return.

“And what is your sisters name Kotir?” He was privately relieved he might have someone a little older who could help him.

“Kar’ta. She is big and strong like the jetiise!” she clearly believed strongly in her older sibling, and Qui-Gon found himself believing her too.

“I’m sure she is, dear one. Where can I find Kar’ta?” She munched on a biscuit thoughtfully for a few moments.

“Night shift.” She nodded, taking a shaky breath in.

“Careful, they angry in the night.” She wasn’t eloquent by any means, but Qui-Gon was grateful for the warning.

He carefully mussed his own hair, scrunching his hands in his civilian clothes for effect. He watched as the girl did the same, folding her already minimal clothes into something so useless at covering her, the slave master would notice nothing amiss. They shared one last smile before Qui-Gon clasped her small shoulder in his hand, gripping her only as hard as necessary to make it look realistic. To her credit, the girl was a brilliant actor, limping and slipping once they were in view of the master. The man looked very pleased at her ‘state’, and Qui-Gon knew that this time, he had gotten away with it. He met blue eyes across the room and nodded once, receiving a small dip in response, and then the boy was flitting away again, like a little bird fleeing a predator.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon meets Kar’ta, a young twilek with just enough hope left to fight back

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic will get nicer to read as time goes on, the set up is just quite dark in order to show why little Obi has some problems when he gets older

Patience was a virtue. And Qui-Gon had to remember that.

But when he returned that night and found four bloodied children on the ground at his feet, he very almost flew off the handle completely. Only the slight rise and fall of their little chests stopped him from igniting his saber and abandoning his mission. He slumped into his chair, instinctively looking for a pair of blue eyes. There were no familiar faces here, in the dark, with the barely working lights shining a strange hue over the room. Each of the children he saw here were a little older, maybe eight or thirteen years each, and there was far less hope in their eyes. They had long since gone numb, eyes dark, battered shoulders hunched. Many were barely even wearing rags, and it made all of their wounds worse. These children weren’t slaves designed to be appealing, it seemed, because this master, a new face, didn’t hold back, his whip practically in perpetual motion. Qui-Gon felt a little sick, but he was here for a reason, and slowly scanned the rather morbid scene. Some of the children had collapsed, and beside one such child was an older looking twi’lek girl. She was a pale green, like the colour had been drained from her skin, but the purple eyes made it clear that this was Kar’ta, a fierce glare just barely hidden behind a carefully constructed mask. Her skin was unmarked, but it was clear her mind was not.

She was not a slave for manual work.

Little bells jangled on her velvet tube top when she stood, brushing herself off, and the heels on her boots could not have been comfortable to walk in on the grimy diner floor. Her lekku were adorned with silver and gold, and makeup coated her face in an uncomfortable layer. And yet she still held herself with pride, swaying from one table to the next, the picture of grace and calm. Qui-Gon didn’t understand why she hadn’t retaliated. At least not until he spotted the little bracelet around her wrist. The scrap of leather was not adorned in any way, but it looked well loved.

She was doing this to protect Kotir. It should have been obvious from the very start.

He must have been staring, because she spun on her heel and walked over to him, still the image of poise and ease.

“How may I serve you today sir? You look like a man of refined taste.” Her voice was light and musical when she addressed him, but he knew from speaking to Kotir that wasn’t how their voices really sounded. His heart ached that this girl had to change such a core part of herself for another’s sick pleasure. He wasn’t sure how to respond, not actually wanting an audience, and took a careful breath, scanning the room.

“I talked to Kotir today. She dropped a plate, and I took her away under the guise of teaching her a lesson.” The whispered words tumbled from his lips so quickly, he was sure she wouldn’t understand him. But at the mention of Kotir, her calm façade crumbled, and her eyes went wide with a familiar expression. Wise beyond her years, the girl calmly nodded, standing slowly and swaying over to the master, who was beating a child senseless. She didn’t look twice, with a practiced ease, and said something to the man that Qui-Gon couldn’t catch. The man laughed uproariously and Qui-Gon watched in disgust as he slapped her ass with a greasy smile. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she swayed back over to Qui-Gon and took his hand, leading him towards the back rooms that looked so much worse in the dim lighting. She dragged him into the nearest empty room and locked the door behind him, immediately kicking her boots off and as far across the room as she could throw them. For a moment he worried things would go wrong, but then she flopped unceremoniously into a chair, and he relaxed again.

“How is she? I haven’t seen her since I turned 16.” She sounded so resigned, her voice dulled with it, and his heart ached for the separated siblings.

“She’s… well… she’s relatively unscathed, but I could do nothing for the wounds she already had.” He hated having to deliver such news to her, but to his surprise she brightened significantly. Sensing his confusion the girl elaborated.

“They told me if I failed them they would have her killed. It is welcome news to hear of her at all. Was the boy from Stewjon still with her?” That cleared up a question Qui-Gon didn’t even know he had, and he nodded.

“He took a hit for her after the plate incident. I’ll take it he does that often?” The girl nodded, making Qui-Gon love the boy even more than he already did.

“So often, in fact, I’m surprised they haven’t been rid of him. They haven’t been able to deliver a solid punishment to the others in a long time, even before I was sent away, because the boy has a knack for being in the wrong place at the right time.” She sounded fond, and Qui-Gon was grateful that maybe, at some point, somebody had looked out for the lost little one.

“He gives me the sense that he’s a boy of limitless love. Has he always spoken exclusively in Mando’a?” His curiosity pressed on him, and he knew this was the only chance he might get to ask. She looked contemplative.

“He has. When he was very very little, an even smaller boy than he is now, he didn’t speak at all. We all thought they had done something to his voice box like they did with poor Naakla. But when I tried Mando’a, the boy responded with surprising enthusiasm. Recently though he’s fallen silent again.I still think he was scared his accent would give him away. In Mando’a, an accent is often lost, so he felt safer using it, and we all followed the habit to make him feel safer. It turned into a game, eventually, when the children realised the master knew not of Mando’a, or even that they could speak.” She smiled proudly, and Qui-Gon got the impression she had cared for them like a mother would watch over her cubs, and he couldn’t help sharing her smile.

“I saw them do that before. It’s rather remarkable to witness, especially when the masters are right beside them, and they still push on. I assume it is a way of spreading word?” He relaxed back on another chair, feeling safe with this twi’lek. The bells on her lekku jingled as she shifted slowly.

“It is rolecall, to see who is alive at the end of each cycle. Whoever’s name isn’t passed on has … well, passed on. It is the unpleasant reality of the situation, but the little boy wanted to cheer them up, so he created the little game. He stepped up when I left, I’ll presume.” She was smiling, eyes soft, and Qui-Gon knew then that the little force sensitive boy was purity in the flesh.

Footsteps echoed in the hall, and all at once her softness vanished, replaced with fear.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon realises just how terrible these slave masters truly are, and his plan starts to come together as he learns more about the little boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> General tw as usual for violence against children, but I swear it only gets better from here. This is the darkest chapter before things start to go right

“Quickly now. Pretend you are sparring me, pin me. When he speaks, tell him I was resisting.” Qui-Gon opened his mouth to protest, but a pale green finger pressed lightly to his lips.

“Please.”

He couldn’t hold back or it would be clear, so he reluctantly pinned her hard to the ground, just as the master walked right in without knocking, she began to scramble against him, all nails and teeth, and he let out a genuine hiss when she caught him with her sharp nails.

“ENOUGH.” It seemed this master had just as short a temper as the last, because his podgy face was bright red with rage. Qui-Gon knew what to do, pressed gently on her arm. She yielded, confused.

“This one has spark, master. I like that in a bed warmer. No point using a girl who doesn’t put up a good fight.” He had mastered the grin by now, and stroked over the girls lekku. He immediately felt guilty, but it had to be done if this was to work.

“Oh? Interested in our prize whore are you?” The man looked delighted, and Qui-Gon knew this would work. Feeling ill, he repeated the claiming motion, jingling the bells on her lekku with another grin. Kar’ta shuddered, despite knowing it was an act, her eyes fading back into that numb fear. Qui-Gon needed to get this over with, quickly.

“How much coin for the pretty little thing?” He thought he threw up a little in his mouth.

Before the master could respond, blood filled his mouth and he began to choke, his beady eyes rolling back as he convulsed on the ground. Qui-Gon met Kar’ta’s eyes with a frown, confused, and she wriggled out easily from beneath him. Her eyes lit up, and then she was laughing. It was loud, disbelieving, but so beautiful to hear after all the things he’d seen. She threw her arms around the little figure in the doorway, and a bread knife clattered onto the ground, spattering blood on the ground. But the laughter and happiness quickly became horror as the child collapsed, a dagger protruding from her chest. She shuddered in Kar’ta’s arms, then went still, her eyes unseeing. The master grinned, his teeth all bloody, his last act before he succumbed to death. Qui-Gon was frozen, watching as the blood coated the floors, and realised there was no way the council wouldn’t hear about this now. Kar’ta was crying, but she still had the composure to gently close her eyes, pressing a kiss to the child’s head before laying her gently on the bed.

“Naakla. Meaning peace in Mando’a. A fitting name, don’t you think?” She smiled, tears streaming down her cheeks, and Qui-Gon gently wrapped his arms around her, feeling somehow responsible.

“A fitting name indeed.” He lead her gently out of the room, privately pleading with the force to take the child and keep her safe in the afterlife. Qui-Gon used the force to lock the door behind them, knowing it was only a temporary solution, but one that would have to work if they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves. The room they walked out into was not a pleasant sight. In the absence of a master, many of the slaves had fainted from exhaustion. There were two teenagers slumped against the wall, heads together, eyes unseeing. Qui-Gon sadly closed the lids, knowing there was nothing to be done for them now. He took a deep breath, and belatedly realised that he had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do now. How was he supposed to free slaves that didn’t even have anywhere to go? He took another breath, not even realising he was starting to feel a little faint. There was a warm hand on his back, and he was lowered gently into a chair as he rubbed his eyes, trying to clear the image of the limp little girl with the dagger through her middle.

“Do me a favour and grab this man a drink, okay?” The slaves seems to snap into action, many of them rushing off in opposite directions, cleaning and clearing and making the diner look it’s usual bare minimum. Qui-Gon muffled a sigh behind his hand, feeling suddenly rather old.

“It is horrifying to see. You get used to it, after a while, but that doesn’t make it any better.” Kar’ta was a steady presence at his side, and despite the barely drying tear tracks on her face, she offered him a sad smile.

“They’re children, Kar’ta, so very small. How do people just allow this to happen?” He wondered when he had started sounding so ancient, and he pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing for nothing more than a comforting presence in the force.

“Motherless children, the offspring of the devil. We are all better off being forgotten, but the slavers didn’t want us to ever forget the way we tainted the planet. As such, this rotten hellhole was created. I really don’t know what we’re going to do now. This is all any of us have really known-“ at this, the twi’lek paused, struggling to pull herself out of a memory. “-but we can start by rescuing our younger ones from the day shift.” She sounded so set in her plan, and Qui-Gon basked in it for a moment before opening his eyes, finding a mug of some sort of leafy drink, and more of the damned grey biscuits he couldn’t escape. Knowing they had proved useful last time, he stuffed some into the pocket of the trousers he’d grown used to wearing during his time here. He didn’t eat, but Kar’ta didn’t press, simply slumped in her seat, her bells jingling lightly.

“Can you tell me more about the boy?” He was hesitant to ask, but she responded with a smile, wide and happy as she focused on the conversation instead of everything around them.

“He arrived at the diner when he was around one year of age. Old enough to have remembered his family, probably, but we never ask about families so I’m still unsure. Most of the children who are old enough arrive kicking and screaming, but this boy was a ghost, silently traipsing along behind the masters. At first we thought it was simply from the shock of being taken from his home planet, but a few months later and still we’d heard nothing out of him.” She washed his arm as she spoke, carefully swiping water over the long lines her nails left in his arm.

“My sister wasn’t even a year of age then, and I was struggling to keep her alive, what with the already small meals we get, and their thinning patience. But then this little ball of light appeared, and wouldn’t leave my side. I would turn and find him there, having snuck up on me without my notice, and he stayed that way for hours. It took me an embarrassing length of time to figure out what he wanted, but it became obvious the first time I let him hold Kotir. His eyes lit up with this… warmth? I couldn’t describe it if I tried, but he took to carrying her around. I got in far less trouble, and the boy never seemed to tire, so I saw no wrong in letting him take care of her.” Her eyes took on a distant look, but Qui-Gon didn’t mention it, watching, listening.

“He would give her his meals, use his body as a physical barrier against the masters. He is so wise for one so little, it would be startling if he weren’t so sweet.” She was chuckling then, and Qui-Gon smiled.

“And you, Kar’ta, I know you don’t like to speak of the past, but may I ask where you learned Mando’a?” He almost regretted the question when she instantly tensed, her laughter fading quickly, but she shook her head, jingling her lekku.

“A little bit of truth is the least I owe you for saving me. I was raised by mandalorians, despite being different, and picked up the speech so I could feel as though I belonged. I went above ground, like a fool, and forgot to put my helmet on. I was captured. I’ve been to a few too many slave houses, but this one the longest.” He set an arm around her, and although she shivered at first, touch understandably uncomfortable, she slowly leaned into it, clearly needing the hug. Although she was severely malnourished and bony, there was a lithe strength about her, the way she moved.

Qui-Gon’s plan was coming together in his head, and he sipped the strange leaf concoction in thought.

“What do you say that tomorrow, we free the little ones?” She looked at him in surprise, as if despite everything that had happened that night he hadn’t been serious about freeing them. He smiled at her, the action feeling more difficult than usual, and she seemed to debate with herself before giving one back.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon and Kar’ta finally free the younger children. Little Obi-Wan shows promise in the ways of the force

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the last of the dark stuff, everything from here will be healing and rebuilding

He didn’t go back to his room that night. He stayed with the children, on the floor, and then when morning came, helped usher them into one of the private rooms. It wasn’t ideal, but not even the youngest of them, who looked around eight or nine, made a sound in protest. Qui-Gon gave Kar’ta his long coat, which pooled around her ankles, but there was nothing else he could do to disguise her. She’d not so gently ripped all the bells off herself and shook her lekku free, revealing them to be a little longer without the bells and their straps. She looked so much more relaxed, despite having no shoes, and he knew she’d do anything in her power to free her sister. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair, which was an unruly mess after sleeping with it in a ponytail. He found that he didn’t care.

“You ready old man? This isn’t going to be easy.” She’d gone back to the other room to give Naakla a proper goodbye, and when she returned, she had been holding the bread knife that she was now spinning in her hand.

“I’ve been ready since I first saw this place.” He offered her what he hoped was a reassuring grin, but really his heart was thumping in his chest. If there was any chance of the council not finding out what he’d been doing, there was no way to use his lightsaber, and that left him with very few options for a weapon. Yes, he’d been trained in hand to hand combat since he was a child, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t prefer some sort of advantage over their enemies. He took a deep breath and marched into the room, hearing soft footsteps behind him. They both took a seat at his usual table, surprisingly unnoticed, and he scanned the room carefully, refusing to order this time. There was another unfamiliar face in the form of a master wielding a chain that looked to have spikes adorning it, and just their luck there were more customers than he’d seen so far. A setback, but not one he couldn’t face. Clearly Kar’ta felt the same, for the hand clutching her knife through her pocket tightened, the knuckles going a light green from pressure.

“Patience, Kar’ta, the moment will present itself.” He could preach patience and calm all he wanted, but his own eyes were scanning the crowd desperately, praying the boy hadn’t given up on him. He couldn’t spot the little ginger, but to his relief he did catch Kotir’s eyes across the room, the girl sporting no worse than a black eye after the plate incident. Kar’ta relaxed beside him and he knew she’d noticed her sisters near-unharmed state.

A sudden silence cast over the room and everything ground to a stop as the doors swung open, and the master he’d first met marched into the diner, a pathetically drenched little being at his side. He knew this wasn’t the work of rain, it was a desert planet, and when he met red-rimmed eyes his heart skipped a beat entirely. It was difficult at best to recognise him underneath all the cuts and bruising on his face, but there was a little smirk on his face, and a calm set in his shoulders that exuded satisfaction. Whatever had happened, the boy had gotten his desired result, because even as he was practically thrown in amongst the other slaves, the grin never faltered, bloody lips tugging up in a crude mimic of the masters own grin. The cruel man was clearly at the end of his will to put up with the boy, because there was a sickening limp to the young ones walk as he immediately got to work, cleaning and sorting with frail hands that shook worse than before. Qui-Gon felt his heart break.

“ _Ni can’t hiibir much or'atu, gar ganar at Gaa'tayl ner adate.”_ He physically ached at the weak voice in his head, and he knew then that there would be no use of their waiting plan. He had to move, and now. Before anyone could even blink in disagreement, he’d snatched a knife off one of the tables and lunged towards the master. What the man lacked in conscience, however, he made up for in brute strength, because in moments he’d swung his fist towards Qui-Gon, catching his shoulder as he attempted to spin away, a split second too slow. Cursing himself for not doing more hand to hand as of late, Qui-Gon shifted his weight, raising his arms into a block; he distantly heard scraping chairs behind him, and knew Kar’ta must have been engaging the other master, and only hoped she wouldn’t get too hurt, unable to turn to see her. A snarl was his only warning before he was being struck at again, and this time he channeled the force, ducking under the grey fist headed for his face.

“I knew ye were a bad un the sec you came ‘ere.” The words would have had more power over him if they weren’t complete lies, the man had been having a casual conversation with him only a few days ago. He smiled widely at the master, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. Qui-Gon ducked again, placing him perfectly behind the master, and he struck, hard, at the creatures spine, making him stumble gracelessly forwards and knocking his face into the wall. The split second was all he needed to spin around and look for Kar’ta, finding her and five tiny blurs fighting off the burly man at the other side of the room. To his horror, he couldn’t spot the little boy anywhere, but he didn’t have chance to search, because a scaly leg was curving towards him and he barely had time to leap over it, landing with bent knees and ducking sideways to avoid the bloody fist headed his way. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before the slaver landed a hit, but he also knew it didn’t matter. He would keep going until he was black and blue if he had to.

Ah, there it was.

Amongst his distraction, the bigger man had sent a second fist towards his gut, and he hadn’t seen it coming at all. He staggered, almost tripping in the unfamiliar clothes before catching himself, doubled over with a hand around his middle. The master clearly sensed his opening, and Qui-Gon braced himself for a second hit as he tried to catch his breath.

The hit never came.

When he blinked his eyes open, he saw a little blur of ginger. But this time, the boy didn’t back away or hide, he advanced on the slave master, spinning what looked like a chair leg in his hand. It made quite the sight, a tiny figure backing a huge slaver into a corner, one careful hit at a time. The boy was clearly on the defensive, buying Qui-Gon time, but the Jedi was frozen in place, his body heavy as lead as he watched the child bob and weave, his bare feet sliding across the tile as he used his surroundings to his advantage. 

To his surprise, and clearly the boys surprise too, he landed a solid hit, the chair leg splintering as he drove it down, hard on his shoulder. The same one that Qui-Gon has wounded, and the master practically howled, finally spurring the other customers into action. Many fled, seeing no use in buying slaves from a master that lost a fight to a child, and some joined the fray, swinging and mostly missing the children. Qui-Gon spotted Kotir fleeing the scene in the direction of the private rooms, skidding beneath a mans leg and carrying on, her chains only just slowing her down. He knew it was on Kar’ta’s orders, and he hoped the older children would provide support.

He caught the boy as he tumbled backwards, coughing raspily, but to his horror, the boy didn’t stay down. No, he squared his shoulders and leapt up into the air, landing on the slave masters bent back and wrapping his own chains around his thick neck. The force crackled around them with raw fear, and Qui-Gon’s feet finally moved, taking him in the opposite direction. He was confused for a moment, before he realised the fear wasn’t coming from the boy. In fact, the boy exuded calmness into the force. No, the fear was coming from a group of three little girls, trapped by a bigger creature who had pushed them against the wall using a table. His eyes were manic, slit-pupils and bloodshot edges. He leapt forwards, his sore knuckles connecting with the mans temple, sending him and his now limp arms tumbling to the ground, connecting with a sickening crunch. The girls didn’t move, terrified to the point that once he moved the table, they slipped down, unable to hold their own weight.

He could do nothing for them now, nor could he turn to search for the boy, because all of a sudden children armed with chair legs and an actual table flooded into the room, launching a full wooden table at the nearest enemy, sending a dangerous looking woman to the ground and leaving her there, pinned. There were only a few of the older group there, but it was more than enough to overpower the remaining master and assist Qui-Gon with the last of the patrons. 

A silence cast over the room, their panting breaths echoing in the strange new environment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ni can’t hiibir much or'atu, gar ganar at Gaa'tayl ner adate - I can’t take much more, you have to help my people


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui-Gon finally has chance to talk to the fiery little ginger boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a little bit shorter, but they will get longer again!

There was no cheering, no sigh of relief, just a numbness as the children tried to understand what had just happened. A thud broke the atmosphere, and he turned the find the boy, standing atop a limp master, his chains snapped. Blood trickled onto the ground, and Qui-Gon had a vivid picture of where the rest of his chain had gone. He shuddered a little, but to his relief, Kotir came tumbling out of the crowd, babbling nonsense in Mando’a as she threw her arms around him, completely disregarding the fact he was covered in blood, her voice seeming to break the ice, and the room was suddenly filled with hushed Mando’a as the slaves tried to make sense of what was happening to them now. Qui-Gon took the opportunity to take a deep breath, his ribs aching awfully as he leaned on the nearest table that was still upright. Kar’ta limped over to him, a gash over her eye and a large whip mark torn through his coat. She looked to be alright though, and he smiled warmly at her, the action finally feeling natural.

“You did it.” She set a shaky hand on his shoulder and he cupped his hand over hers comfortingly, not even flinching when Kotir bundled back into him, wrapping bony arms around his legs and rambling away in rushed Mando’a he couldn’t hope to translate. He rested his other hand on the little ones lekku.

“No, we did it, all of us.” They laughed together softly when the children started throwing things at the bodies of the masters, not understanding that the men were dead.

When he had finished helping Kar’ta take head count, he found the boy sitting alone on a far bench, his head in his hands. He looked far too old, little shoulders hunched, and the force trembled around him with unsure emotions.

“Can I sit here little one?” He offered the boy a smile, but only got an absent wave in response. He didn’t mind, after the stunt the boy pulled he had a reason to be tired, especially after everything he’d gone through before the fight.

“Do you have any injuries?” A shake of his head. But the force shook around him, and Qui-Gon knew the boy was lying. He didn’t want to press and risk breaking the tentative bond between them, so he let the boy contemplate in silence while he watched the slaves band together in little packs, refusing to stay apart for longer than a few seconds.

If he was going to be honest with himself, he had no idea what to do now that he’d freed them. He couldn’t exactly take fifteen slaves back to the temple with him with no explanation, they would be sent away again. But he also knew he couldn’t leave them all here. The eldest after Kar’ta may have been doing a good job at taking care of them, but a fourteen year old could only do so much for the little children, many of which had fallen asleep after their ordeal, holding each other close even in rest. When he turned, he found the boy studying him carefully, blue eyes narrowed as he concentrated on Qui-Gon. He resisted the urge to squirm under the scrutiny, but when he felt a tentative push on his shields he had to carefully withdraw from the boys glowing signature. Confused, the little one pulled away entirely, looking like he’d gained nothing from his search for answers. He was strong in the force, and it was almost scary how much he took in with one glance. This boy couldn’t stay here.

“Do you have a name, little one?” It was a shot in the dark, but he really wanted to be closer to him. The boy sighed, shaking his head. Another lie, but again Qui-Gon let him keep his secrets. As slaves, they had nothing of their own, so if the boy wanted to keep his name private he had every right to.

“That’s alright. I’m Qui-Gon Jinn. I work with the Jedi, and I wish to take you with me when I return to the temple.” The silence between them was unbearable for a moment before the boy turned towards him, eyes narrowed in his disbelief.

“ _Tion'jor? i’m nayc pirimmur at gar.”_ The voice in his head was a breath of fresh air, despite his slight difficulty with translating the sentence.

“I believe you have what it takes to be a _jetii._ You know that feeling you have, that the world around you is alive?” He waited for the nod before continuing, watching as the distrust slowly left his face, replaced with tentative wonder.

“That’s the force, and it is all around us. Every Jedi feels the force, and skilled ones can use it to make themselves more powerful. You’re already using techniques I’ve only seen taught to older children, and I’m very impressed.” Although the boy flushed pink and waved him away, surprisingly modest for one so young, he couldn’t restrain his excited wiggle on the seat.

“ _Tion'jor can’t kotir olaror too?”_ The boy didn’t sound upset, it was a genuine question,and Qui-Gon was surprised again by how mature the little boy acted. It made him feel a little unwell, knowing he’d had to grow up too quickly to protect his friends. He thought carefully before answering. In theory, it would be great to bring Kotir, but the little girl showed no signs of force sensitivity, or even an awareness that the force existed. Kar’ta was not strong in the force, could not channel it, but she knew it was there, and she was a skilled fighter…

“They can come with us for the time being, but it will not be a permanent fixture.” The little boy rubbed his chin in thought before nodding firmly, clearly satisfied with the answer.

“Do you know this planet well?” It was likely a foolish question, but to his surprise the boy nodded again, blue eyes bright as he fixed them on Qui-Gon.

“Will it be safe for the children to continue living on this planet?” This time, a shake of his head, and Qui-Gon hummed worriedly. Master Dooku would most likely dump him on the nearest moon if he retuned with a ship full of non-force sensitive younglings, but he had some particular thoughts about where his former master could shove his feelings on the matter.

“Alright, I’m make you a deal, little warrior. Your friends can return with us to the temple. I will see to it personally that they find new homes where they will be safe. All I ask in return is you allow me to train you in our ways.” Kar’ta raised her eyebrow at him across the room, but didn’t intervene, clearly sensing the tense atmosphere in the force as the Jedi master awaited the child’s response. He gave the boy time, letting him scan the room a few times, evaluating his options. Then, finally, a nod, and Qui-Gon let out a tense breath.

Turning to the rest of the room, he raised his voice a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tion'jor? i’m nayc pirimmur at gar - Why? I’m no use to you
> 
> Tion'jor can’t kotir olaror too -Can Kar’ta and Kotir come too?

**Author's Note:**

> There is so much more to come holy shit
> 
> Gar cuyir a jetiise, cuyir gar olar at tegaanalir mhi? - you are a Jedi, are you here to rescue us?
> 
> Ni suvarir gar, a don’t guuror at jorhaa'ir bic - I understand but don’t want to speak it
> 
> Meh gar hurt kaysh, i’ll poison gar tea - if you hurt her, I will poison your tea 
> 
> Fun fact: the little ones name “Kotir” means brave in Mando’a and her sisters name “Kar’ta” means heart


End file.
